The Painted Veil
by Shanaconda
Summary: A sudden cholera outbreak threatens Zimbabwe. House/Wilson. One will fall in the hands of death itself, while the other holds the key to his survival. Click to read the full summary
1. Summary

**Summary:**

A sudden outbreak of cholera in a remote area of Zimbabwe threatens the nations population from less populated regions to urbanized inhabitations. As a well-known infectious disease specialist, Dr. Gregory House is requested directly by the Zimbabwean government to assist in the retaliation of the international crisis. With much controversy and pressure from Cuddy, he accepts the governments plea and readies himself for his departure.

Through the intensive chaos, Wilson steps in and offers to accompany House, loathing the idea of him being in a presently lethal envirnment without him. The catch is, the International Health Organization and others assisting with the treatment refuse to allow his support, for being an oncologist he hasn't a degree in infectious disease, but instead ship him off to a government lab in Brazil a few weeks prior to when they are expected to arrive in the capitol city of Zarare, Zimbabwe, where he will work with specialists to familiarize himself with the cohlera disease and ensure his usefulness in the healing process.

Ironically, things begin to take a lethal turn for the worst once the two become fully involved with treatment, as well as the always present exposure. An unexpected twist of events inevitably tests the true strength and depth of their love for one another...

...One will fall in the hands of death itself, while the other holds the key to his survival...

Who will it be?

****NOTES:**

**For those who may notice, I combined the symptoms/treatment of the bubonic plague and cholera, so the medical logic is not entirely factual, for the sake of suspense and withheld interest.**


	2. The Resolution

**Chapter One: The Resolution**

"You're not going alone."

I felt like my mother was standing in the room. And here I thought I was rid of her domineering attitude long ago. I stepped around the couch and blocked Wilson's view of the tv.

"I'm sorry, I distinctly remember you having no say in the matter. Besides, Cuddy needs you here, and as far as cancer is concerned, you're of no use to me."

Wasn't it bad enough that I was struggling with an unjustified, disconcerting part of myself that longed to have him near? If there's anything concerning my ego that we've all come to expect, it's the indisputable fact that I would never be caught dead with another man – let alone alive with one.

He got up ineptly and stood in close proximity with his hands planted firmly on his hips. I felt a light drift of his breath on my face, but not enough to offer me the startling warmth that it did during those times when I reluctantly allowed ourselves the innocuous intimacy that came from being so close; only for the sake of feeling whole.

"I already talked to Cuddy. She spoke with the representative, and they're allowing me to help out as long as I spend a few weeks in Brazil, to study infectious disease. Only long enough for me to familiarize myself with the issue."

I could tell from the note in his voice – despite the obvious hint of sarcasm – that he strongly disapproved of their decision. Well hey, maybe he'll decide it's not worth the plane ticket and let me take care myself.

His eyes narrowed as he tried to peer over my shoulder to get a better look at the tv screen. Eventually growing frustrated, he gently pushed me aside and raised the volume on the remote, his attention glued to the Zimbabwean Prime Minister.

_"Our priority is tackling the humanitarian crisis with every means possible._

_In the immediate days ahead we must focus on the cholera crisis. We must urgently reduce both the number of outbreaks and the unacceptably high mortality level by tackling the causes of the epidemic, with your help._

_We must also ensure that every Zimbabwean has access to emergency food aid regardless of tribal or political affiliation. In this regard, we must ensure that the people can access humanitarian food aid on a non-partisan basis. I call upon all experienced medical practicioners in the field to step forth and work together to ensure that all those that are deserving can access the help they require."_

I watched as his face fell, the unsought realization hidden deep behind the uncertainty in his eyes. It made no sense to me, as far as I was concerned. Danger meant nothing in my eyes. This was all just a new piece of one of life's unexpected puzzles, and now that I've been forced into the light, so far that I'm actually beginning to give a crap about their well-being, the life-threatening risk had always been part of the thrill. And yet, there he stood contemplating the idea as if I were already lying on my death bed. I never thought a persons concern for me could possibly become so growingly obnoxious.

I took the remote control from the arm rest and switched off the tv before throwing it back on one of the cushions. At that same moment he swiveled around to face me with that deep-eyed expression that told me he understood. Exactly _what _he understood was something completely alienated to my perspective. No doubt he was thinking something along the lines of, _"Oh dear, all those people are dying, and I'd be a self-centered, uncaring bastard for not letting you care for those poor innocent children."_ Please. If the children were smart, they would've left home the minute mommy and daddy started pooping different colors.

For a moment I almost like that thought. But then, he could've thrown in _"I'll let you go alone, I'd probably just slow you down anyway" _somewhere. Yeah, as if his unintelligible knack for caring would allow me even that much hope.

He crossed his arms in front of him and leaned back against the tv stand, his eyes connoting the same level of compassionate understanding as before. I impatiently waited for him to say something. I can honestly say I'm not as good a psychic as the critics give me credit for.

Finally, he shifted his wait in the same way that was usually followed by words. Or, in some cases, actions that don't come naturally comfortable, as I so clearly learned on said occasions when the intimacy breaks in.

"I know you may not like it, but you mean everything to me, House. You have to admit, your inability to act rationally, in most cases, tends to put you in bad situations. Then what? No one else will be there to keep your dharma in check."

"It's called _karma_."

"No, I'm pretty sure its dharma."

"Karma is the essential needed to get into the after-life, dharma refers to your character."

"Yes, so I'm saying I'll have to be there to keep your 'character' in check."

We both stood in silence, wallowing in the naivity of our senseless exchange. Wilson held something in his face that seemingly accused me of purposely pulling him off subject. And so I did. I obviously knew what he meant, but I would do anything to avoid talking about all the lovey, faithful factors of our relationship. Can you blame me?

He didn't seem to. As a matter of fact, he didn't appear to suspect me of uncertainty at all. There he goes, smiling like I'd done nothing wrong. Perfect…

"My plane leaves tomorrow morning."

I nodded without much care and plopped down on the couch, letting my cane fall to the floor as I eyed him with an expectant expression. For a minute I almost felt bad for not caring, but I quickly shook it off. He made his way past me toward the bedroom. He hesitated and stopped, looking over his shoulder.

"And don't try leaving without me."


	3. The Departure

**Chapter Two: The Departure**

"Here, take this."

I looked into Cuddy's smiling face, the warmth in her eyes easing the unsettling loneliness that was already groping at my heart. Part of me worried that Cuddy wouldn't be able to keep Greg from leaving, and the other part simply felt dissapointed by the fact that he wasn't here to see me off. From the beginning he was always struggling with his feelings for me. I didn't blame him. Although, it would've helped for him to at least come as a friend, as Cuddy had done.

I was slightly surprised by the small object she placed in my hands. It was a book with a simple design on the cover, with a startling likeness to a diary. I looked around the crowded airport with a sheepish expression, holding it out of sight. I leaned in slightly toward her and said in a quiet tone,

"Alright, so maybe I don't share the same social interests as other men, but don't you think walking around with a _diary _is taking it a little too far?"

She rolled her eyes with a sly expression and placed a hand on my shoulder in a way that looked as if she was about to explain something to one with more _limited _perception.

"I understand you grew up without sisters, therefore I half expected you to come to that conclusion. But, since you're still a guy, and _not _a woman…"

She paused and pressed her lips together with a bemused expression, searching for a simpler explanation. Her eyes fluttered, the obvious simplicity of it forming into a knowing smile.

"No, I am not trying to insult your homosexuality,

"You're a complete idiot, being that you can't differentiate a diary and a journal,

"And yes, it's common for a man to keep a journal, especially when they're doing fieldwork."

I looked at her oddly, my face slightly fazed by my own ignorance. She pulled me into a friendly embrace, the sweet smell of her hair throwing me into a temporary daze. She stepped back and held me in her eyes for a couple of moments.

"I expect you to write about everything. Not everyone has the chance to study in a government lab in Brazil and return with a temporary degree in infectious disease within a months time."

I nodded and strained to hear something about my gateway on the loud-speaker. Well, if anything I might as well do that much. It almost sounded promising, keeping a record of my studies. I might as well be heading back off to college.

"Tell House…"

I thought for a brief moment. I would've said _I love him _but he wouldn't have wanted to hear that. At this point, I wasn't sure I would even manage to say it. With a sigh, I picked up my luggage and turned to leave, giving her one last look of farewell before starting toward the gate.

"Tell me what?"

I turned suddenly, accidentally hitting a sixteen year old girl in the back of the head with one of my bags. I turned to apologize but she was already glaring back at me from inside the gateway. My focus returned to the voice that had caught my attention.

"Were you planning this grand entrance for your own egotistical purposes, or did you figure it was the right thing to do?"

Cuddy asked abruptly, her hands crossed neatly over her chest, the usual chastise expression returning as she watched House limp his way toward them.

I watched as he fell into place beside her, his eyes catching mine, for a moment I felt something behind them, but he looked away before I could decipher what it was.

"Neither. All the best prostitutes come here. As a matter of fact, I was chatting up a nice blonde one when I saw you two."

Cuddy fought a smile and rolled her eyes.

"Meet me outside, I'll give you a ride home"

She said softly before walking away. I eyed him awkwardly as I balanced the weight of my baggage evenly. Then I heard the last call. I stood impatiently, looking over my shoulder to make sure the gateway was still open. I took a step back in surprise as I returned my attention to him. We were now only a few feet apart.

"Good-bye, Greg"

I said stiffly, the emotion gone from my voice. He cleared his throat and pulled me into a shallow hug. For the slightest moment I felt him hesitate before quickly letting go. I suppose you could say that meant something to me. That just maybe, he was willing to give us a chance. As for me, I had nothing left to lose, and I've never bothered myself much with dignity. I smiled inwardly as I slid into my seat, my head resting against the window, deep in thought.

Maybe he wouldn't leave me behind after all…


End file.
